


Love Flashes

by azfell



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gay, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), One Shot, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), crowley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azfell/pseuds/azfell
Summary: In which Heaven insists demons can't feel love, and Aziraphale doesn't know better and feels his love for Crowley will never be returned.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	Love Flashes

Aziraphale had loved Crowley for a long time now. Well, not all that long to him. A bit over 75 years isn’t really all that long at all when you’ve been on Earth for about six thousand. It was in 1943 when he fell in love with Crowley, and acknowledged his love for Crowley. Crowley had saved him from Nazis, and saved his books too. 

Aziraphale hated being in love with Crowley. Part of that, he blamed Heaven for. The other part he blamed himself for. He felt such intense guilt from his love, he wasn’t supposed to love him. He was a bad enough angel just being friends with a demon, loving one was an offense bad enough to make an angel fall. He blamed Heaven for the guilt, because of all the anti-demon propaganda up there. 

He blamed himself for falling in love in the first place. Heaven told him demons couldn’t feel love, he knew that. Crowley was a great friend, but Aziraphale knew he was incapable of loving him back. Aziraphale knew that, and he fell in love anyway. 

Aziraphale didn’t really sleep. He did, however, start spending a lot of time in the past 75 years staring up at his ceiling in bed wondering about loopholes to that rule. Could demons still really like people? Was it only romantic love they couldn’t feel, or could Crowley even platonically love him? He figured he could ask someone upstairs. It would be an awkward series of questions, though. And who would he ask? Gabriel? Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that question. 

Aziraphale didn’t fault Crowley at all for not feeling love. He’d known many people in his lifetime who simply weren’t into romance. He just didn’t like that Crowley, who he was in love with, was one of those people. It hurt to know Crowley would never, could never, love him back. 

Many years had passed since Aziraphale fell in love with Crowley. Armageddon had been averted. They had nothing to do but live together, happily. Neither Heaven nor Hell were on their backs. They were on a bus from Tadfield to London, though the busdriver hadn’t a clue why he was driving all the way to London. Crowley was gazing out the window, and Aziraphale was pretending to do the same. He was really looking at Crowley. He’d never seen the demon so relaxed, not in all of six thousand years. Neither one of them realized how much pressure Heaven and Hell had put on them all this time. The weight of the world had been lifted off their shoulders. 

Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale. He didn’t say anything. He just let a small smile creep up on his face before turning back towards the window. Aziraphale realized two things in that moment. First, he realized how rarely he saw Crowley really smile. Second, that the bus they were on was packed full of love. The love he felt was so intense, he wished he could pinpoint it. He looked around and spotted an older couple asleep together a few rows ahead. Aziraphale smiled to himself, certain he’d found the source of all the love. He thought back to a few days ago, when he and Crowley went to the birthing hospital. He remembered how much love he’d felt then, though he wasn’t sure where that was coming from. People shooting at each other didn’t really shout love to him. The only other person in the area was Crowley. 

It was a long bus ride to London. Aziraphale felt a warmth on his hand, and looked down to see that his own hand was in Crowley’s. The demon had grabbed his hand, and intertwined their fingers. In that moment, Aziraphale forgot how to breathe. Time stopped, and nothing in the world existed but the unlikely pair and their locked hands. Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s face. He wished he didn’t always wear those glasses. He missed the time before sunglasses were invented. He missed Crowley’s eyes. Another smile on Crowley’s face, this one full of reassurance. 

Aziraphale reminded himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. He didn’t let go of Crowley’s hand though. 

Aziraphale took Crowley up on his offer to spend the night at his flat until the bookshop could be repaired. He thought back to the moment where Crowley had saved Aziraphale’s books from the bomb. He wished Crowley could have done it again. Crowley was always there for him, even when he didn’t ask for him to be. It was like he just knew when he was needed. He thought back to France, to the church, to when Crowley had taken Agnes Nutter’s book from the burning shop. He thought everyone needed their own Crowley. 

The next morning came. Aziraphale hadn’t slept, and Crowley woke up to the angel making them both some breakfast. Or, really, Aziraphale making two portions of breakfast and Crowley taking a few bites before giving the rest of his to Aziraphale. Over breakfast, they discussed Agnes’s prophecy. “Ye must choose your faces wisely,” she’d written. 

“I think,” Crowley began, “that our respective sides are going to be angry. Are angry. Whatever. They aren’t going to just let this go.”

“They’ll want to punish us,” Aziraphale agreed.

“Destroy us,” Crowley said grimly. 

Aziraphale’s face fell. He knew Crowley was probably right, but he didn’t want him to be. “You don’t think…?” 

“What else would they do?” Crowley hissed.

“I suppose we did sort of… we are technically traitors,” Aziraphale mumbled. 

“I don’t know about your lot, but Hell doesn’t take kindly to traitors.”

“No, neither does Heaven. You’re right.”

“Question is, what are we going to do about it? Alpha Centauri is still there, but they’d track us down. I’ve lived here for six thousand years, angel. I don’t intend to move now.”

“Neither do I,” Aziraphale agreed. 

The pair sat in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room the sound of Crowley’s black nails tapping against the table. 

“‘Choose your faces wisely,’” Aziraphale repeated. “Crowley, what if she means that literally?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I mean… our actual faces. We should choose which ones we wear wisely. Our respective sides will be looking for us. They can’t destroy me with Holy Water, though. Nor you with Hellfire.” 

“You’re saying…?”

“We should switch bodies,” Aziraphale confirmed. 

To put a long story short, the plan was a success. Aziraphale as Crowley and Crowley as Aziraphale had convinced their sides that they should be left alone from now on. They no longer had sides, they were no longer meant to be enemies. Their side was their own side. To celebrate, after switching back they had dinner at The Ritz. 

While eating, Aziraphale felt more intense flashes of love. These were some of the most intense he’d ever felt, nearly overwhelming. He again wished he was better at pinpointing the source of all the love. He glanced at Crowley. Though his eyes remained concealed, Aziraphale suddenly realized that Crowley was looking at him the way he looked at Crowley. Adoration was all over his face, and he looked more content than he ever had just watching Aziraphale eat. The love felt so intense when he looked at Crowley, and suddenly everything made sense.

Ever since they met, Aziraphale had experienced particularly strong love flashes around Crowley. At the birthing hospital, on the drive home, on the bus, and years and years ago. He recalled feeling love in Rome when he took Crowley to try oysters, and all those years ago when he’d given Crowley that Holy Water, in the church when Crowley saved his books, Aziraphale began losing track of all the times he’d been with Crowley and felt some of the most intense love imaginable. 

He remembered being told time and time again, demons were incapable of feeling love. It was just another lie Heaven had told Aziraphale. He knew in that moment that demons were capable of stronger love than he’d ever felt from any human. 

After his sort of epiphany, Aziraphale decided six thousand years was long enough. He was done waiting, done hoping. 

“Crowley,” he began. 

“Hm?” Crowley hummed. 

Aziraphale made eye contact with Crowley. If he looked hard enough, he could just barely make out his eyes. Full yellow, not a bit of white. 

“I love you,” the angel said.

Crowley froze up. He didn’t know how to respond, and in that moment Aziraphale was terrified that maybe he’d gotten it wrong and had now scared his lifelong best friend away. Underneath the glasses, Crowley’s eyes were wider than dinner plates with shock. The demon almost thought a trick was being pulled on him for a moment. 

Aziraphale grew more anxious with every moment of Crowley’s silence. “You don’t have to say it back, o-or feel the same, or anything like that, I just-” 

“Angel,” Crowley choked. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for six thousand years. I love you too.”


End file.
